


Each and every next

by Kit



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit/pseuds/Kit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A good husband always spoils his wife. Just a wee bit.” - an experiment with Twelve, and giving River something to look forward to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Each and every next

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MatildaSwan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/gifts).



_If you ever loved me, say it like you’re going to come back._

CAL’s archive was not the end. Not even hers. River knew this, with the strange side-step into foreknowledge that came from lifetimes of chasing her own time. It was what she told herself when Charlotte was asleep, when the false moon was too full and her mind kept skittering back to Donna Noble’s appalled face and the anger in his younger one, all vivid to her; crackling with the last, fierce energy of her life.

 He’d looked so angry then. And he had been angry now. Angry and grieving and _old_ , under those long bones and younger skin. She had watched him age as Clara scattered all her warm, human life. Watched him age as vowed to get her back. Watched him, in those brief, stinging moments before he kissed her goodbye, saying the words they both needed.  

 _Time can be re-written_ , he’d said. _I can always see you_ , he’d said. _I can always see you_ , _and I am always listening._

She was sick of beautiful last lines.

“I was a _pillock_.”

Time came in stops and starts, here. It only moved when someone was looking. Air shifted. Grass bruised beneath her feet, the scent suddenly allowed to coil about her and sneak into the back of her throat. She sneezed. She was not alone.

“A daft, short-sighted, overconfident pillock with delusions of bloody grandeur, Oh, and…hello.”

River swallowed. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus all her awareness on this slow, painful movement of her throat. The flare of skin and muscle; the tiny bubble of air.

“I don’t know this voice,” she said.

“You think _you’re_ surprised,” the man said. She could feel him standing at her back. Not touching her, but close enough for the distance to pulse and strain. “Can’t say I ever looked at myself and thought, _you know, the universe should make me Glaswegian._ The very _last_ of me.”

“And you’re here?”

“Ah, River—”

“—no, don’t. I’m not talking to you. Not like this.”

“The voice isn’t _that_ bad.”

“It’s a good voice. It’s…if I’ve never heard it, then it’s your—”

“Yes, dear heart.”

River wrinkled her nose. Choked back a laugh. “ _That’s_ new.”

“You’ll hear it.”

“Don’t be stupid. How _can_ I? You’re here.”

He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t touching her. He stood at her back, an unknown shape of someone she knew far, _far_ too well, and he _did not touch her._ “Oh, I hate you…”

Warm, deep laughter. “No, you don’t. And this is the _last_ you’ll see me. There’s a lot before that with this old body, River. Clara’s a clever girl. You know that. You _told_ me. A spoiler if I ever saw one.”

“You were being dense, sweetie. It seemed worth the risk.” River swallowed. “Was it worth the risk?”

“Turn around and find out.”

“No.”

“ _River.”_

She bit her lip, hating and relishing the flush her name in that voice brought out on her cheeks. Down her neck. Her back. He did not sound sad, or bewildered. There was no fear. And he rolled his rs. Just a little.

_Just **enough**_

_Shut up, hindbrain. This is not helpful. This is not possib—_

There was a hand in her hair. His hand, the same and new and fisting hard enough to sting. River gasped. Wrenching her head to the side and facing him, facing bight, fierce, unshadowed eyes and silvered hair, his face seamed and serious and his free hand now going to her cheek, her jaw, her throat. It lay there, a gentle, warm contrast to the possessive hold at her scalp, and she stared at him. She stared at him, and he stared at her, even though her own face hadn’t changed in years and never could.

“I said goodbye like I was going to come back. Just as you told me.”

“I was lying to myself,” she said, voice a low rasp. “You know that.”

At this, he smiled. A crooked, fey grin made her want to laugh and weep all at once. “I knew no such thing. If I knew half of what I should, would I have _ever_ left you here?”

Her pulse leapt. He could feel it. He had to, with his hand where it was. She felt a fingertip press gently in the hollow of her throat, and she groaned, small and soft and shaking.

“River,” he said again. “ _Hello_.”

She kissed him. She couldn’t help it. She leant up the altered, shorter distance and kissed him, her own hands sliding into his hair, down his back. Time only moved in this place with someone watching, and he was _there_ , fierce and sweet and the taste of him changed and the feel of him just the same. Her heart stuttered, and  she could feel the mad counterpoint from the two of his.

“I’m sorry. But…are you done?”

A new voice, all bright vowels coloured by a blush/ “Donna says she can’t keep the gateway open all that might longer, and if you get locked in too soon then it’s all going to go tits up. Her words. Only there were a lot more of them.”

River pulled back, breathing hard. “Is that Clara?”

“She’s good at interrupting.”

“It _is._ And Donna. She said _Donna Noble_ was—“

“—I told you, dear heart. We’re a long way from the end, you and I.”

“And you came here because…?” Hope hurt. She could feel it stretched tight over her skin.

“A good husband always spoils his wife. Just a wee bit.” He grinned again, that liopsided smile, and let one hand twine with hers. “This seemed like the right time.”

“Doctor. You…you _changed_ the rules.”

“Of course I did,” He stepped back from her, regret in every motion, fingers slowly loosening.

“ _Insufferable—“_

“—of course I am—“

“— _aggravating_ —“

“—so says she who could only get married at the bloody pyramids. On a _train.”_

 _“--Beautiful_ man.”

His turn for laughter. “That’s new. I’ll…I’ll see you soon, River.”

“You’d better,” she said, thickly.

“Every next time.”

And somehow, hearing this old promise in his new voice, River believed him. 


End file.
